The question caught Kalista off guard. Xander looked more serious than he ever had when confronting her about her actions. This time, he wasn’t just angry—he looked terrified.No, not just terrified. Tired.“I don’t recall doing anything that would make you look at me like that!” she snapped. “Besides, what could happen that’s so serious?”Xander’s teeth clenched. He couldn’t believe she was still acting this way, even with everything about to collapse around them.“Hah.” He sighed, looking away and ruffling his hair in frustration.This was all his fault. If he hadn’t let her leave the academy and come back, none of this would’ve happened. She would’ve stayed out of trouble. Out of his trouble.“Is this about those couples I messed with?” Kalista asked, shrugging with indifference. “Don’t be so paranoid. I know everyone in the elite society, and they’re *definitely* not part of it. Even if their families have a little money, it’s not enough to go against the Marino family. If they co

"Ah, this gala... It’s very fancy, eh? So much sparkle—like the stars in Roma!" a man said, straightening his jacket, eyes dancing with pride. "You see the chandeliers? Mamma mia, even my nonna would be impressed. And she doesn’t impress easily.""Giovanni," came a sigh beside him. "Can you focus? We’re not here for the lights."Giovanni Castelli turned toward the voice—his cousin, Alessia, ever the serious one. She adjusted her gloves as they stood near the grand entrance, their family crest subtly pinned to her silk sash."Eh, Alessia, you never change," he said, flashing a grin. "Always thinking with your head. Try using your heart for once. That’s how you enjoy life.""We’re here on business," she reminded him sharply.Giovanni Castelli, early thirties, had wavy dark hair, playful hazel eyes, and a sleek build. He carried himself in a sharp blue tuxedo with the Castelli crest on his lapel like a man born to charm—and used to getting his way.His cousin wasn’t an exception. Alessia

Tedmond lunged.He caught Chuck mid-swing, his hand closing around the man’s wrist with crushing force. There was a sickening pause—a crackling silence—as every muscle in Tedmond’s body coiled, restrained only by the thinnest thread of control.Chuck’s bravado crumbled.His face twisted in surprise, then panic, as Tedmond wrenched his arm down and twisted it behind his back in one fluid motion. Chuck cried out, the sound sharp and humiliating.Gasps rippled through the crowd. A low wave of murmurs followed.“Did you see that?” someone whispered. “That grip—he didn’t even flinch.”“Touch her,” Tedmond growled into Chuck’s ear, “and I’ll break more than your pride.”Chuck struggled, but Tedmond held him fast. The man was taller, maybe even broader, but he didn’t stand a chance. Not like this. Not against someone who meant it.Aris, standing in the corner, began to panic. He had done nothing and wanted to keep it that way. He had expected Tedmond to sort things out, but from the looks

Washington?!The word echoed like a gunshot across the ballroom.Every conversation died. Every breath seemed held in suspended panic.Even the orchestra, halfway through a soft string piece, faltered into silence.And in the middle of it all, Chuck Harlan stood like a man teetering on the edge of a cliff, realizing, far too late, who he had tried to bite.His lips parted, but no words came out. No apology. No defense. Nothing.Because there was nothing he could say.The Washington family wasn’t just powerful. They were untouchable.“He is Washington?” one of the men at the party asked, stunned. “The old-money family—deeper than banks. Ties in politics, global trade, black-ops intelligence.” “I heard the truth about them is even worse than the myths,” another man added. “I can’t believe I’m seeing a Washington in person.”“They’re the only zillionaires on the continent,” the first man said. “Not billionaires. Zillionaires. The kind of wealth that makes presidents pause and government

The private room was bathed in warm, golden light, with soft classical music humming in the background. Crystal chandeliers glowed overhead, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and rare wines.A long glass table sat in the center, surrounded by some of the most influential figures in Europe—business moguls, political heirs, and aristocrats from old families.As Tedmond and Persis entered, all conversation came to a halt.Heads turned. Eyes widened.The tension shifted instantly—from polite to reverent.“Mr. Washington, welcome,” a white-haired man in a navy suit said, rising to greet them. He offered a firm handshake, but his eyes flickered toward Persis with a trace of nervousness. “And Ms. Damon—a pleasure to finally meet you. Your reputation precedes you.”Persis offered a polite smile but said nothing, letting Tedmond take the lead.“Thank you for the invitation,” Tedmond said smoothly. “We had a small delay, but everything’s fine now.”“Good, good,” another